


Professor Song

by Princess_Pinky



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-18
Updated: 2013-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-12 04:41:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/807363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess_Pinky/pseuds/Princess_Pinky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When and where did The Doctor mention a certain Professor Song to his latest companion?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Professor Song

**Author's Note:**

> This ficlet is based on the Clara and River preview clip that was released today for, "The Name of The Doctor." Additionally, the idea for this story was inspired by an Ask answered by mycroftsmindtardis on Tumblr. So that's your spoiler warning for this fic. If spoilers are your kink, welcome aboard! (I can't decide whether this will remain a one-shot ficlet or if I'll end up adding any more additions. We'll see.)

_**Professor Song** _

"This is the TARDIS library!" The Doctor announced, spreading his arms wide.

Clara let her head fall back as far as it could because the ceiling seemed to go up forever. "It's like Hogwarts." Somehow there was a strange déjà vu about the place, but she knew The Doctor had never taken her into the bowels of the ship before. "It must have every book ever written!" she breathed.

The skin around The Doctor's eyes puckered, but Clara was too busy gawking to notice. "Not _every_ book," he mumbled. "Not…" He shook his head.

"Not what?"

The Doctor slung his arm around Clara's shoulders, his smile back in place as though it had been crazy glued there. "Bet you can't guess the best-selling novelist of all time!" he grinned.

Clara blinked, her mind running through its mental files like a super computer. "Shakespeare?"

"Pssht! Not even close!"

Clara's lips drooped into an O. "Uh – uh – Dickens?"

"Dickens? Ha! And they call me the mad one!"

"Seuss?"

The Doctor popped her on the head. "I'll give you a clue: she's a woman!"

"J.K. Rowling!"

"No."

Clara frowned. "I don't know then. Amelia Williams?"

The Doctor's face paled. "What?"

"Amelia Williams," Clara repeated, but she turned away and was observing one of the bookshelves. "I know that's not right though, she was popular, but it seems like most people today have never heard of her books. She wrote and published my favorite book though, _Summer Falls_. Hey! Maybe we could–"

The Doctor spun Clara around by the shoulder and shoved a novel into her hands.

" _Death in the Clouds_. Oh, Agatha Christie!" Clara exclaimed. She smacked her forehead with the novel several times. "Of course!"

"Look at the copyright."

Clara eased the pages open—the copy was brand new—and her jaw unhinged. "Five billion?!"

"You can keep that one if you like, I have more." He tapped her on the nose. "And _yes_ , Agatha Christie. Who else would it be? And why in the great wide universe were your first three guesses men? Lousy humany assumptions about gender in professions, that's why," The Doctor ranted, only to realize that Clara had dropped into a leather chair at the end of one of the aisles and had planted her nose in the book he'd gifted her. "Oh."

The pang of the two-letter word somehow cut into Clara's subconscious and she looked up in time to catch the shadow that had fallen across The Doctor's face again. "Doctor, what's wrong?"

"It's just that is—w-was—R – Professor Song's favorite chair to read in too."

"Professor Song?" Clara asked curiously.

The Doctor shook his head. "Nothing. I – I'm going to go look up that book you mentioned. What was it again?"

" _Summer Falls_?"

"Right!" He spun in his trademark ballerina twirl, the tails of his Victorian garb flaring like a supernova. "Make yourself at home, Clara Oswald! I'll be back with tea and Jammie Dodgers!"

Clara rubbed the arm of the chair. It had a slight worn spot, where an elbow a little larger than hers would likely fit. She slid her elbow into the dip, curled her legs onto the seat, and made herself at home like The Doctor had suggested. She briefly wondered about Professor Song, but the thought soon dissipated as she lost herself in the crisp leaves of Agatha Christie.


End file.
